Wise Men
by scousemuz1k
Summary: Tony is worrying about seeing his father. Help comes in a very strange way.
1. Chapter 1

Wise Men

By Scousemuz1k

Chapter 1

It was the sort of cold that's actually quite pleasant, as long as you're wrapped up well, and your extremities haven't frozen. DiNozzo in his British Warm, and McGee in his Burberry, weren't fazed by a bit of frost. Neither one would ever have admitted to the other, or to anyone else for that matter, that the socks they'd put on this morning were thermal, although they both confessed to insulated linings to their gloves.

"Makes sense to keep your gun hand warm," Tony said.

"There's that," Tim had agreed, his breath visible in a thin white cloud, "I just like to be warm. _Don't _call me McWimp, either. I guess if you're having an outdoor Winter Fair, you can't book the weather in advance. At least this is better than rain."

Tony just nodded thoughtfully, as they walked beneath the bare branches of the cherry trees in West Potomac Park. Tim had observed that his friend wasn't in a talkative mood, and put it down to the case they were working on. Earlier that morning they'd been talking to the family of a young Ensign, a beautiful, smart girl, who was being put through Yale by Naval Intelligence. The intention was for her to then join them as a satellite imaging analyst. On the first morning of the Christmas holiday, she'd driven to Rock Creek Park, sat on a boulder overlooking a stream, put her father's Desert Eagle to her temple, and pulled the trigger.

Her parents and sisters had been completely devastated, and although the physical and forensic evidence clearly confirmed the suicide, both agents felt that they owed it to the family to find out more. Lydia's roomie, Orla, was also from DC, and was working at the charity fair. "I don't much feel like it," she told Tony on the phone, "but I've promised. I'll be home after six, or you could come down and talk to me here."

They found her serving at the hot refreshments stall.

"Was I expecting it? No, not at all." She looked seriously at Tim, who'd asked the question. "If I'd suspected such a thing with _anyone_ I'd have done something. And Lydia was a friend. I do know she had a boyfriend who was making her unhappy; at least it seemed to me that every time she saw him she came back stressed and sad; I tried to get her to talk about it."

"You say tried," Tim said. "Was she reluctant?"

"Oh, yes," Orla said sadly. "She just told me I couldn't help. She…" Her face twisted, and she went pink. "She… look, sometimes she'd come back, and I'd think she was in pain. Er… sexually, I mean. She'd go and spend ages in the bath or the shower. I think he ill-treated her. I tried once to say she should get rid of him. I wish I'd tried harder."

The agents looked at each other sickly, and both sighed. Tim pushed aside his own feelings, to try to ease Orla's. "Don't think like that," he said firmly. "You may feel as if it's your fault, but take it from us, it's not."

"Whose fault is it?" Orla asked, painfully. "Can you tell me?"

"Not yet," Tim said. "But if there's anything to find, we'll find it." He was aware of Tony raising one sardonic eyebrow, but the SFA had the grace not to tease him in front of the young woman. Then he realised he was being sent a message; ask _more._

"What do you know about the boyfriend?"

"His first name was Ian. He was older than her; I saw them meeting once on campus. I knew it wasn't her dad, too young, but he kissed her when she got in his car, and I thought it must be him, so I watched them. He wore uniform; navy blue is all I can tell you. I'm not from a military background myself. He looked about thirty… thirty-five even… average height, dark brown hair." She paused, regarding them anxiously. "That's not much, is it?"

"We've worked with less," McGee told her. "Thank you, you _have_ actually been a great help."

"Yes, thank you," Tony said, speaking for the first time. He began to move away, then said suddenly, "Hey, can we get some of that mulled wine? And the hot mince pies?" To Tim's surprise, he bought a dozen mince pies and enough of the hot spiced wine to take back. Orla put everything in a grocery bag and packed it with newspaper to keep it all warm.

As they headed back, Tony was quiet again. Tim sat in the car, nursing the bag of goodies on his knee, and tried carefully, "This was a nice idea, Tony. They won't be expecting Christmas treats."

"Ah, well, that's what makes it fun, McSanta. Taking people by surprise!"

"Yeah… expect the unexpected…"

Tony smiled slightly. "Last time I said that I got egg on my face, remember? _Dead _Fornell turned out to be _live_ Fornell?"

"That one got us all. But hey, that's the first time I've seen you smile all day, so the memory's got to be good for something."

"Hey!" Tony protested. "I was glad that Toby hadn't topped himself! I –"

"I didn't mean that. You've been quiet all morning. Now tell me that's _not_ unusual."

"It's…er…"

"Unusual. It's a bad case, I know…"

Tony sighed, and decided to come clean.

"It's not the case. Although, seeing Ensign Griffiths' family in that state was not good, I'll grant you – fact is, we've seen it before, and no doubt will again," he said heavily.

"Mmm… it does motivate us to find out the truth… but what_ is_ bothering you, then?"

Tony stopped the Agency saloon in the same spot they'd collected it from, and switched off. He looked down at his knees, and said quietly, "My father's been in touch."

"Your _father_?" Tim echoed in astonishment. "How long since - "

"Getting on twenty years," Tony told him.

"Does he want to see you for Christmas?"

"Oh, no," Tony said quickly, a flash of hurt in his eyes. "No, he says he's coming to DC in the New Year, and would like to talk to me. He doesn't explain why, he doesn't wish me Merry Christmas, or ask what my plans are, or how I'm doing…"

"So now you're going to be worrying instead of enjoying the holiday," Tim said thoughtfully. "It's almost as if he did it deliberately."

The SFA looked at the floor as they stepped into the elevator. "No almost about it, McGee."

For a moment, Tim was speechless. He felt surprised, and actually a tiny bit pleased, that DiNozzo was opening up to him, DiNozzo who never let anyone see what he was feeling, especially if what he was feeling was pain; but then he realised that this put a hell of a responsibility on him to handle it right. "Wow," he finally said derisively. "Nice guy. Are you going to meet him?"

Tony leaned his head back against the lift wall. "Tim, I have absolutely no idea," he told him. The doors opened. "Come on, let's surprise them."

"Wait." He said it so softly that Tony almost didn't hear. He stopped and turned back to his friend, almost upsetting the bag of goodies he was carrying. "Gibbs?"

"What about – oh. I've not told him yet."

"You should."

"I know," Tony told him ruefully. "But if he goes Poppa Bear…. You know he'll go head to head with any dirtbag alive… but I don't want him going head to head with my father's lawyers. Look… not yet, Tim, OK?"

"OK. But you need to talk… I'm here."

Tony smiled, and silently nodded his thanks.

-----------------

The Christmas treat was warmly received. Ziva had never tasted a mince pie; they told her that her education was incomplete. She completed it at once, and said it tasted delicious. Gibbs, who ate two, also admitted that mulled wine was something he looked forward to at this time of year. Abby came up from the lab to claim a share, and Tim was just remarking that they ought to take some down to Ducky, while there was some left to take, when the man himself spoke up. He came hurrying over from the elevator, his face set and his jaw clenched in anger.

"Thank you, Tim, but no. I don't believe I could eat at this moment, without feeling very ill. I have just completed the autopsy on poor young Ensign Griffiths; I will leave the report here for your consideration. I have no wish to repeat the sordid contents out loud; suffice it to say that she had been hurt, repeatedly, during so-called lovemaking, over a period of at least three months, judging by new bruising over old; new and old bite-marks… well, you will see for yourselves, no doubt. I recovered semen, and a couple of hairs that did not appear to be the victim's, and have sent them to your lab, Abby. I have left Mr. Palmer taking moulds of the bite marks."

He thrust his chin out again, in that same fury. "You will also see, that the poor child was nine weeks pregnant. She may have killed herself, Jethro, but there is a man somewhere responsible for this. I don't for a moment think that this innocent girl was his first victim; he was practised at what he did. If she is to be his last, find him!" The ME left without waiting for a reply, his body language demonstrating his distress as he bustled away.

The MCRT all looked at each other grimly, then Tony swept up what was left of the mince pies and dumped them in the trash. So much for a Christmas treat. They found themselves standing round the plasma screen, looking at the young woman's photo; a girl just turned nineteen, with so much promise… Tony resolutely pushed aside a picture that jumped unwelcome into his head; his father's face inches from his own, red and flicking whisky smelling spittle._ 'You'll never amount to anything…' _ He shook himself. It wasn't so much the promise that would never now be fulfilled that bothered them all, he knew… _nobody_ deserved to be driven to do what Lydia Griffiths did.

Finding the guy would be easy; there would be DNA, and Abby, who'd already raced off, would find it. Tim was already going through Navy listings, narrowing down the number of suspects by physical description and age; when Tony said suddenly, "Try this one, McGee. Apparently young Navy personnel in Ensign Griffith's position have a mentor to look after their welfare and progress. Hers was a Lieutenant Commander Ian Phillips."

"OK," Tim muttered, concentrating, and a moment later, said, "There." Up on the plasma screen he put up the record of a dark haired man aged thirty-four.

Tony let his breath out slowly. "Right…. Let's not jump to conclusions here… but it would appear that our mentor has been abusing his position."

Gibbs said "It's not the first time we've seen it."

Tony nodded. "Gunnery Sergeant Leeka. Midshipman Ashley Collins. She was just a kid too."

"What happened?" Ziva asked.

"She didn't die. But a guy died trying to protect her. Gibbs took Leeka down." He smiled briefly at the memory.

"It was more clear cut then," Gibbs said. "Murder is against the law. Rough sex isn't, nor is getting someone pregnant. And Ducky would have told us if there was grounds for calling it rape. We'll have a helluva job proving coercion."

"Ducky reckoned she wasn't his first victim," Tony said.

"So if we could find others…" Ziva continued.

"Pulling up a list of Phillips' former mentees now, Boss," Tim finished off triumphantly.

After that it was easy. Three other young officers, who would never have spoken up, told similar stories. "I'd have carried it for the rest of my life," one girl told Tony, sobbing, "you've no idea how glad I am that you've found him out. He said no-one would believe me if I told, and that he could harm my future career."

"He won't hurt anyone else," Tony said.

Ian Phillips was arrested in Connecticut that afternoon by local officers; he admitted everything to them as soon as they mentioned the bite-mark moulds. They were bringing him to DC right away.

"Pity," Tony said viciously.

"Pity? Ziva queried.

" Pity he confessed. Gibbs was looking forward to interrogating him."

"Oh yeah," the Boss agreed. "I think I might have a word anyway. Do you two want to go visit the family again?"

"No," Tony said honestly. "But we will, huh, McGee?"

Tim nodded solemnly, and they left without a word.

The visit was as traumatic as the earlier one. The Griffiths family were grateful that NCIS had discovered the truth so quickly, and both relieved and appalled by it. They were heartbroken that Lydia hadn't come to them, and that the tragedy could have been avoided. The two agents both felt wrung out as they began the short journey back from Glen Echo. Tim had offered to drive, but Tony had demurred.

"Let me," he said. "Gives me something to occupy my fried brain with. Unless _you_ really need something to think about?"

"No, I'm good. Ish. Like you said, not the first time, and it won't be the last. My guess is, you're feeling this bad because your father's still on your mind."

Tony looked across at him briefly, with a slight smile, then turned his attention back to the road. "Yeah," he said. "You sure you want to go there, McCounsellor? I don't particularly want to inflict him on you."

"You can't talk to Gibbs yet. You_ won't_ talk to Ziva. Abby's not here, neither's Ducky. Who's left?"

The Senior Field Agent nodded thoughtfully. "Always knew you were smart," he said, and Tim shot him a look, but realised it was spoken without sarcasm. "Hadn't pegged you before as a wise man."

**AN: This was meant to be a short introductory paragraph in a one-shot. Like Topsy, it just growed.**


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: I had a message asking if this was going to be a Tony/Tim story. No; I don't write slash or yaoi, not my scene.**

Wise Men

Chapter 2

Tony drove for a minute or two without speaking, with a small, vexed frown creasing between his eyebrows, while Tim waited patiently. "Fact is, I don't know where to start. I'm afraid of whining apart from anything else."

"Well, I promise I won't say you're whining. I won't even think it." That brought a laugh from his friend, but he still struggled to find words. "Tell you what," Tim said, "I'll ask questions, and you can either answer, or say mind your own business, next question." That got a genuine smile.

"O-kay…. Go ahead." He expected the first question to be, 'Why did your father cut you off?' That was the one that always raised the most interest. On the few occasions down the years when he'd spoken of it, people seemed to want to hear salacious tales of what twelve year old Anthony had done. Whatever else, DiNozzo was neither cowardly nor a hypocrite; if he'd done something, he'd admit it, so it riled him when anyone simply assumed that it must have been his fault while he vainly protested his innocence. He felt oddly proud that McGee didn't go there, even though the one question he_ did _ask was a slam-dunk.

"It's the abuse that's really getting to you, right? It's reminding you. You've been there."

Tony twitched the steering wheel involuntarily, and frowned as he straightened the car again, with a muttered 'sorry'. He sighed, and took a deep breath.

"Yep, wise man it is," he said softly. "Don't misunderstand, McMagus, it wasn't like this. I mean, it wasn't sexual like these poor kids. Physical, sure. You know, say something, punctuate it with a fist…" He slowed right down to pass a couple of children on ponies; they were riding on the grass verge a good fifteen feet from the road, and the two fat, winter-coated animals looked bomb-proof, but he'd rather take care than not. He jerked a thumb at the children as they went by.

"That _does _remind me… He was inventive. I remember one day when we were riding through some woodland; his business friends were up ahead. I'd displeased him by jumping a log instead of going round it – don't ask me why that was wrong…"

"Was he a good rider? Could he jump obstacles?" Tim asked, and Tony's eyebrows shot up. A rueful smile twisted his mouth.

"I don't know if he could. D'you think I showed him up?"

"It seems likely, don't you think? If his friends were there?"

Tony shook his head in sad wonder. "Well, something sure pissed him off. He went charging ahead and yelled 'Keep up, damn you,' so I tried. He pushed this branch out of the way as he went by, and let it go in my face. It knocked me off my pony, and when I pulled myself together, everyone had gone, including the disloyal nag; it had simply followed the others home for its lunch. I had to walk back; couldn't see properly for the blood running into my two lovely black eyes… after the housekeeper patched me up, my father clouted me round the head for not taking better care of my pony."

"Ew," Tim said. "That's not just physical, it's psychological."

"Oh, yeah. He had plenty of that. 'You'll never amount to anything' was a litany he repeated daily. 'You'll never be fit to run DiNozzo Enterprises' was another one. He was worse when Mom died…. If I didn't stand up to him he said I was weak; if I did, I was ungrateful. So one day when I was twelve I just told him I wasn't taking any more of it; to stuff DiNozzo Enterprises and leave me alone; three days later, with yet another black eye, oh, and I think there was a broken wrist that time too, I was packed off to Rhode Island Military Academy. He paid my school fees, and sent the minimum requirement in clothes, anything else I earned by doing homework for other kids, playing the organ in local churches… I never got another cent from him.

"When I left school I got a letter from his lawyers saying he considered his duty to me done. I went to Ohio State by means of a sports scholarship and working at anything legal, and until three days ago, I'd had no contact with him since then." He paused, then took his eyes from the road to glance briefly at Tim. "So, have you thought 'he's whining'?"

"I told you I wouldn't." It was McGee's turn to pause. "So, you don't have to meet him. You could tell him to take a long walk off a short jetty. What's making you hesitate?"

"Who knows? I don't. That's the problem."

"You ought to talk to Gibbs. If you meet your father without having told him, he'll be very unhappy about it."

They were back to the parking lot, and again, Tony cut the engine and looked down at his knees. "He'd be mad as hell," he said.

"No… I said he'd be unhappy. There's a difference. OK, he might let you know by going Gunnery Sergeant on you, but…"

"What?" Tony was thoroughly confused.

"I don't think it's a one way thing," Tim finished. The SFA still looked bemused, and only his gratitude for McGee's concern so far stopped him from grabbing him by the collar. Tim squared his shoulders. "The father figure thing," he ploughed on bravely. "You think of Gibbs as a father. He thinks of you as a son."

Tony was speechless.

"I mean, I get a bit of it myself; there are sometimes –" he held his hands out defensively - "ok, I admit they're _rare_, when he says something and I hear 'son' on the end of it in my head, but I've _got_ a Dad, so he knows, Gibbs I mean – and I know, that it's not such a big deal."

"You're really saying he thinks…."

Tim let his breath out in a whoosh. "How did we get this deep? Look… I'm right about it from your side… right?"

Tony nodded slowly. "Yeah……" He looked Tim in the eye and began to glare, but his friend forestalled him. "It's OK, I'll never breathe a word. Although Abby knows, and Ducky knows… "

"There aren't many left wh don't, then!" He thought of Ziva and refused to go there.

"I'll be honest," Tim said, "I wouldn't be so McMagus about it if Abby and I hadn't talked about it. But she's sure Gibbs mentally adopted you some time, and she's smart about these things. What I'm trying to get round to saying is, if you take up with your real father, especially without saying anything, you won't so much make Gibbs mad, as you'll hurt him. There. I'm done."

After a few moments of sitting in silence, Tony finally nodded. "OK," he said in a rather lost voice. He wasn't the sort of person, no matter how he teased, who actually wanted to hurt people; especially not his team; especially not Gibbs. He still wasn't sure about Gibbs having adopted _him_, his father had after all said 'most every day of his young life, that nobody could love him, or even like him, and he'd spent the rest of his life fighting that thought; but he'd certainly adopted Gibbs. Back in Baltimore, nine years ago…

So that was settled. He knew what to do about Gibbs. But for all of McGee's skill at opening him up, which hadn't surprised him, and his insight, which _had_, he was none the wiser about how, or whether, to handle his real, for want of a better word, father.

After a few moments, seeing there was no more to be said, Tim jerked his head at his friend. "You coming?"

"Yeah. Hey… thanks, McMelchior."

"Mc_Melchior??_"

"Well, it's Christmas."

They had begun the walk to the bullpen, when McGee's phone buzzed. "It's Sarah," he said. "I ought –"

"Course you ought. Go ahead, I'll leave you to it. I'll tell Gibbs you're on your way." Tony left McGee talking to his younger sister, trying _not_ to listen, as his friend followed him more slowly up the corridor. His attempts to give Tim privacy failed miserably as he had to wait for the elevator, and he caught up with him.

"OK, OK, I'll see if they're somewhere at my place, but why should they be?.... Have you asked Mom?…. Sarah, how can you lose a pair of skates?... Course I know where mine are.… No, I've not asked Ducky yet."

Skates… Sarah… Ducky… Tony couldn't figure this one out, why would Ducky know where Sarah's missing skates were? So now he was listening shamelessly…

"Everyone? Even Gibbs?.... I don't know… I'll ask them… It's the elevator. There's always an echo in here…. What? Well, why didn't you look there in the first place?... OK, I'll ask them…. No, I think it'd be good…. Sure. I'll call you when I get home. If mine need sharpening I'll take yours in as well. Bye, hon."

Tim put his phone away with an apologetic glance at Tony. "Sarah," he said un-necessarily.

"Ice skating, right?" Tony said, eager to have something else to think about other than his dilemma.

"Yeah. Can you skate, Tony?"

"I really don't know any more. I played ice hockey a bit at college, the level I played at you didn't have to be a good skater, but I wasn't too bad. At least I'd got past falling over all the time. I suppose it's like riding a bicycle? You never forget? I've still got my skates somewhere. You and your sister go skating? Are you good at it?"

"Yeah. Not too bad, really. A girlfriend taught me, and Sarah's been skating since she was a child. She's been invited to a skating party up in Maryland, on Saturday night, wants me to go…wants us all to go actually."

"No kidding? All of us?"

"Well, anyone can just turn up, she's been before, she said she had a great time. It's a charity fund raiser, there's a big lake, shallow, fifteen inches of ice by this time of year. There's skate hire, a band, hot food stalls, lights in the trees, all that sort of thing. I know Ducky used to skate, Abby'd try anything once, you'd be ok if you played hockey, don't know about Gibbs or Ziva. Or Jimmy Palmer for that matter. What d'you think?"

"Count me in. I'd say Abby's the first person you need to ask. If she's enthusiastic, everyone else will catch it too."

"Good idea. Tell Gibbs I've gone to see her?"

"Sure."

Gibbs on skates… Tony was wearing a real smile for only the second time that day as he walked into the bullpen.

------------------

The Boss had spent the afternoon making the wretched Lieutenant Commander Phillips very miserable. He now had a list of every young woman who had ever been the recipient of the man's attentions, and someone from NCIS would contact each of them personally, so that all of them would eventually have justice. This put Gibbs in a better mood, although nobody forgot Lydia Griffiths, and when Abby came up from her lab to inform him that he was going skating on Saturday night, he didn't say a flat no. After a while he agreed to go, although after Ducky regaled them all with tales of skating on moonlit lochs to the skirl of the pipes, he was beginning to show signs of changing his mind. In the end he settled on making the trip, but insisted that nobody was going to get him on the ice. Abby and Tony exchanged wide grins above his head, and Ziva remarked that she'd never tried ice skating, but was sure that she'd get the dangle of it.


	3. Chapter 3

Wise Men

Chapter 3

Which was how it came about that on a perfect evening, with moonlight on the white landscape, turning it slightly blue, four cars stuffed with NCIS personnel bounced and crunched over the compacted snow track up to Little Slipper Lake. As lakes went it was insignificant; a man made stretch of water created by a small weir, to provide a supply for six local farms and a village. As fun it was vital to the area; in warmer weather it was a beautiful spot for a stroll or a picnic, but it came into its own in wintertime, when it obligingly froze over in November, and stayed safe for skating until February.

In the first car, the three kids of the MCRT teased each other mercilessly. Ziva didn't believe that Tim was as good as he said, (although Tim had only answered the same question that Tony had asked him earlier, and he hadn't bragged,) or that Tony could have any finesse, since he learned to skate in order to play ice hockey. Tony didn't believe Ziva would stay upright for more than five seconds, and promised to be the one to brush ice off her butt. Tim said yes he was good enough, wait and see, but they'd never be able to match his sister.

In the second car, the Vance children bounced with excitement, while their parents thought of mulled wine and hot burgers, and the early night they weren't going to get.

In the third, Ducky and Gibbs made heroic efforts not to talk about the cases of the past days. Ducky lulled his friend with skating tales from his youth, and Gibbs let his thoughts drift… Both he and Ziva had noticed Tony and Tim in deep conversation many times over the last week; usually when Tony was uptight about something. Which, Gibbs thought, he'd been quite a lot. Tim had simply said, "He'll tell you very soon, Boss, he only told me cuz we were in the car so he couldn't get away," leaving the senior agent barely able to contain his impatience. He'd let the weekend go, and then if Tony wasn't going to tell him, he was going to ask, and get to the bottom of it.

The third car carried Jimmy, Abby, and Nikki Jardine, who were all more excited than the Vance children. Neither the assistant ME, nor the analyst had ever been on skates before, while Abby had her own pair, shiny black leather with silver lightning bolts, and tiny chains decorating the laces. She had not used them for a couple of years, but they had been newly ground; she couldn't wait.

A traffic marshal with a flaming torch directed them to park the cars; they made donations to the charity as entry fees, and Leon and Jackie dashed off after their disappearing kids. Tony had his old hockey boots hung round his neck by their laces, their edges, like Abby's, newly ground by the technical guy at Fort Dupont, and covered by guards. He led Ziva off to the skate hire tent. Gibbs smiled to himself; the SFA was wearing that cream sweater again; the one that his own dad had given him. Tony loved that sweater.

Tim found his sister, who'd been there all day helping, and they went out to skate immediately. When his colleagues came out of the hire tent, with Ziva clinging to Tony's arm for balance, Abby teetering, and Nikki and Palmer wobbling along hanging on to each other desperately, they were met by the breathtaking sight of the McGees moving in perfect ease together. And yes, Tim was every bit as good as he'd said.

After a while they came over, to the sound of applause from the others. "Very nice, McGlide," Tony said approvingly.

"Your turn now, guys," Tim said cheerfully. Ducky came gliding towards them, with slow, dignified grace. "Miss Sciuto," he said with a bow, "May I have the honour?" His good balance and lack of haste reassured Abby, whose confidence returned quickly, and after a short while the others accepted that they weren't going to have the fun of watching the goth hitting the floor. Tim took Nikki, his sister took Jimmy, and they tottered nervously away, which just left Tony and Ziva.

A short distance away, a lone figure took to the ice. Did they think he'd never been young? Well… ok… maybe… but just because he'd said they'd never get him on skates they'd assumed he'd never _been_ on them. So… he'd let them assume; he had no intention of falling over for their amusement. He slid slowly over the ice, feeling the old muscle skills coming back, and enjoying the play of the air moving around him. He looked at the frost edged trees, and the rim of blue fire that the moonlight gave them, and a small smile tugged at his mouth, as he watched his team; his friends.

Ducky and Abby made an odd but competent pair, the two McGees were being patient and kind to their pupils. In the distance, floating above the even further distant music of the band, came the laughter of the Vance children, moving fearlessly at high speed, while their parents remained on the snowy grass bank. Gibbs' eyes were drawn to the tall figure, standing very straight, and moving backwards, both hands holding the hands of the much smaller figure that he was towing. There was an innate grace about DiNozzo that made him instantly recognisable, but what gripped Gibbs' attention was what his body language said about his attitude to the girl beside him.

Tony was taking _care_ of Ziva, unaware of the watcher moving slowly across the ice towards them. Whatever he'd said in the car, he wasn't going to let his partner fall if he could prevent it. He pulled her along gently, with words of encouragement – although not too many, she wasn't a child. When he was certain she could hold her balance, he skated away from her in a wide loop, and came back fast, stopping sharply and neatly beside her. She mentally took back the comment about no finesse, although she wasn't yet ready to say it out loud. She tried not to look at the way his eyes shone with good humour; she tried even harder, as he circled and returned, not to look at his long legs, or his broad chest and shoulders in the soft cream sweater. She wasn't going to think like that…

He took her hands again, and towed her steadily along, then let go. Again he circled, but stopped farther away. "Now," he told her, "You come to me." Ziva hesitated. "Come on… it's ok. I'll catch you. I won't let you fall."

"So you do not want to brush the ice off my butt?"

He gave her a wicked leer."I didn't say that. I'm just not going to put it there deliberately. Come on… push off one foot… you can do it…"

So she did it. As she took one gliding step and then another, and another, she became aware that he was moving backwards, away from her as she did so. She did not feel entirely secure, and she wanted to feel the safety of his hands, and she began to get angry. After about ten steps, she yelled "DiNozzo!" crossly, and felt herself going.

He was in front of her in an instant, scooping her up before she could hit the ice. She fell against him instead, and for a moment his green eyes laughed into her chocolate ones, and they were each aware of being in the other's arms. Then slowly, regretfully, Tony straightened his partner up. "There, you see?" He said. "Let's try again."

This time he came beside her, and put his arm round her waist. He reached across behind him to draw her arm around him, and said, "Now try pushing off." He matched steps with her, as she became more confident. "Push harder. Faster." Ziva almost forgot to breathe. She knew that by herself it would be a long time before she felt this secure, but with Tony beside her, she felt as if she could fly. He lengthened his stride, and she let herself be carried along; her hair began to fly round her face, the forward momentum made a cool wind around her. He stopped holding her so tightly, and simply kept both hands on her waist. She leaned forwards and spread her arms; he increased the pace… she _was _flying.

The moonlight and the twinkling points of frost were mesmerising; Ziva had no idea how long they kept up the forward flight, or for how long the ghostly ice flashed by beneath their feet. She didn't want it to end, and when the effort of keeping her knees braced made her wobble, and he brought them to a stop, she felt as if she'd been brought back to reality from a dream.

Tim came over. "So, how d'you feel? That looked ok."

"It was… very enjoyable." She wanted to scream _fantastic, wonderful, out of this world,_ but she kept her reserve. Was there the ghost of disappointment in Tony's eyes? Tim thought there was.

"Tell you what," her partner said, "Why don't you try it with a real expert?" She had been perfectly happy skating with Tony, and now she felt guilty that her low-key reaction had disappointed him, when he'd been trying to please her. Now here he was, trying to make _her_ feel better by pairing her with someone he thought could please her more than him. Tim was leading her away, and she went without protest, but now she felt bad.

McGee tried to find ways to build her confidence, and show her tricks that would give her more height, or more speed, and she played along, but he knew her heart wasn't in it, as every time they slowed down, she would look around to see what Tony was doing.

Tony, in the mean time, had spotted Gibbs. That was… Gibbs on skates. Gibbs gliding nonchalantly along, chatting to Ducky and Abby. At first he thought he'd simply pretend he hadn't noticed, but that would mean standing in the shadows watching Ziva, or going off and doing fast laps just to have something to occupy him. He thought about his father for the first time that night, and his stomach lurched. So he flew over to the three. "Er, Boss?"

Gibbs raised an eyebrow. Tony was in joker mode, but his Boss knew brittle when he saw it. "Boss, those are _skates._"

"Well spotted, DiNozzo."

"And that's _ice._ You know… the stuff you said we'd never get you on?"

"And yet here I am."

"And yet here you are," Tony echoed. "Guess we all assumed, huh?"

"Nice to know I can still surprise you," the Boss said sardonically. "What the heck are _they_ doing?" He looked across to where Jimmy and Nikki, under the despairing eye of Sarah, were clutching each other and falling down for the twentieth time.

"I'll go and give her a hand, Boss," Tony said, and started to move out to the centre of the ice, where Jardine was trying to pick herself up. At that moment he heard a shout, or several. Gibbs was yelling a warning, the other voices were the over-excited noise of a gang of teenagers playing their own odd ice-polo game with a soccer ball. Some had proper ice-hockey sticks, some had what looked like branches broken off trees, and one had what looked like a fence post. They were paying no heed to anything but their own game, and the look of panic on Nikki Jardine's face when she realised they hadn't noticed her efforts to stand up was almost comical.

Tony hauled her to her feet, and sent her on her uncertain way, and that would have been the end of it, if one of the youngsters hadn't cannoned into his back. It would still have been fine, but for the sort of perverse luck that always seemed to lurk in wait for him, if, as he went down, another lad, with eyes only for the battered soccer ball, hadn't whacked him solidly in the side of the head with his hockey stick. For a frozen moment, the pack looked down in horror, then, displaying the solidarity that packs do in such circumstances, they scattered in all directions. In a matter of moments, they had all melted away, leaving one still figure slumped on its side in the middle of the ice.

Tim, the most secure skater, reached his friend first. He was going to feel for a pulse in Tony's neck, but decided against touching his head at all, so he lifted his wrist gingerly. He gave up, as he wasn't sure if it was his own pulse he could feel, and he laid Tony's hand down again. The SFA was lying in something like the recovery position, and was out cold, a bleeding contusion in the hairline on his right temple. Ducky pushed everyone else away, tutting anxiously as he went to work.

Nobody said a word, until Nikki finally ventured, "This is my fault. He wouldn't have been there if he hadn't gone to help me."

Ducky looked at her briefly over the top of his glasses. "Dear girl," he said severely, returning his attention to the unconscious man, "Do not attempt to appropriate the blame for this. It belongs entirely to those thoughtless young people. Hmm… Anthony's neck is not broken, that is good news at least." He felt carefully around the bruised temple. "Nor is his skull fractured." He lifted Tony's eyelid, which promptly and purposefully closed again. "He is, as you would expect, concussed," he added heavily.

"Can we get him onto land yet, Ducky?" Gibbs asked. "His sweater's getting wet."

"His _sweater?"_ Ziva said in astonishment.

"Tony loves this sweater," Gibbs said matter-of-factly, and Tim heard a fathers concern in his tone, "He won't want to find it ruined when he wakes up."

**AN: So what about the wise men? They'll be along in the next chapter.**


	4. Chapter 4

Wise Men

Chapter 4

_That's odd. I'm walking. I thought I was skating._

_Where are my skates?_

_Why are my feet bare?_

_Hey, they look kind of good against the snow. All brown and tanned. I always thought they were all knobbly and pale. Not my best feature._

_When did I get my feet all tanned?_

_Why aren't they cold?_

_The snow doesn't crunch when I step on it. It sort of…chimes…like hundreds of tiny little bells._

_Why does the snow chime instead of crunch?_

_Where am I?_

_Where am I going?_

_Why?_

Tony stopped walking and looked around. He seemed to be beneath the cherry trees in West Potomac Park. They were in riotous, flossy blossom, although snow was on the ground. When they'd left for Maryland earlier there hadn't been snow in DC. Tony puzzled about that for a moment, then decided there was no point. There were more important questions to answer.

_There are?_

"You know there are, Tony."

Tim McGee lounged casually on the steps of the W.W.2 memorial, by the fountains, whose plumes were frozen in the air. Tony decided that since he wasn't asking about the blossoms, he wouldn't ask about the fountains either. Tim wore a thick white sweater, and white trousers, and blended into the background so well that Tony didn't notice him until he spoke, and then he wondered how he'd missed him.

"Because you've only just put me here," Tim answered him reasonably. "There's not much time, Tony. You'd better ask the question."

Tony sat down on the steps near his friend. "O-Kay…."

"Just _say_ it, DiNozzo."

"I don't know if I should see him at all," he said anxiously. He looked Tim in the eyes, pleading for help. "_Should _I see him?"

"Don't think right now about what happens if you do. What happens if you don't?"

"Either he leaves me alone for another twenty years, which would be nice, or he keeps on trying."

"Would it be nice? Or would you be driven nuts by wondering what _would_ have happened? Wondering what your father wanted?"

"My father… yeah…"

"Go on, ask the other question."

"It's harder, McMagus."

"Oh, you remember that one."

"Course I do. I invented it."

Tim sighed. "The question, DiNotconcentrating." Tony's eyes widened in surprise, then he chuckled. Tim shook his head. "The _question._"

"It's a bad one."

"I know," Tim said quietly. Tony took a deep breath.

"I remember what he did. I sometimes tease myself with the idea of killing him. _What if I do?_"

"Have you ever killed anyone in cold blood?"

"No."

"Have you ever wanted to?"

"No. Unless you count Saleem."

"That was different. We went there to kill him."

Tony nodded. "That's true. But apart from that… it's one thing to want someone dead so they can't hurt anyone else…"

"And another to set ourselves up as judge and executioner," Tim finished.

"We kinda did with Saleem…it's different when it's one of our own…" Tony said dubiously.

"Which _he_ isn't," Tim told him calmly. "And you're not him. You know without me telling you, that you won't do something just because he did it." His friend nodded slowly, finally convinced. "Why don't you walk some more?" Tim asked. "The park's lovely at this time of year."

Tony nodded again. "Good idea. So long, pal." He turned towards the long Reflecting Pool that ran up towards the Lincoln Memorial. It wasn't frozen, but it mirrored nothing but the white, snow-threatening sky. When he glanced over his shoulder, McGee was gone.

----------------

As they carried the SFA's unresponsive form back to the lakeside, Sarah McGee came flying up from the other end of the lake. She side edged her blades, and stopped with a little flurry of ice. "I chased them," she said, looking angrily at the unconscious man. "Four of them went off in a GMC, I got the number. They'll say it was an accident, and I dare say it was, but it doesn't excuse thoughtlessness. Or chickening out."

"Nice work, Sarah," Gibbs said. "Do you know if one of them was the guy who hit DiNozzo?"

"I can't swear to it, but he was the one I tried to follow. I _think_ I got the right one."

Gibbs nodded his approval, and turned his attention back to his second in command.

----------------

Tony walked in silence beside the pool. He had no idea how far he'd travelled or how long it took him, until a shadow on the snow made him look up, to find the great monument looming over him.

"I don't think you'll find the answer there, dear boy, at least not yet." Tony swung round to see where Ducky's cheerful voice was coming from. He hunkered down beside the pool, to see the old ME's smiling face reflected where he would have thought to see his own. Another thing he wasn't going to ask about.

"Hey, Ducky! Er… am I supposed to ask you a question too?"

"Of course, Anthony. I venture to think that I know what that question is, too. Since I'm well known for my – ah – capacity for talking… I imagine you have some concerns about your father in that direction."

"The problem is… since I don't actually want to see him –"

"I thought young Timothy had resolved all that for you, my boy."

"Oh, he has. But if I've got to see him, then I've got to speak to him, and I've no idea what to say. Every time I try to visualise it, to imagine what I'd say…" Tony swallowed hard at the recollection, "My throat just locks up and I can't even swallow, let alone speak."

"You regard that as a sign of weakness?" the ME asked gently.

"No… yes… er, I feel like a kid again, Ducky. I remember how he used to make me feel."

"Well, my boy, I'm sure that's understandable, but you surely can't think that you're still that defenceless child. You are," the smiling reflection in the water paused for effect, "Senior Field Agent DiNozzo of the renowned Major Crimes Response Team of NCIS. You were personally recruited by Leroy Jethro Gibbs himself. He didn't choose a second in command who would freeze in a crisis, and to my knowledge and belief you have never done so." Tony opened his mouth to reply, but the face in the water didn't allow him the chance.

"Nor would Gibbs keep an agent on the team who could not control his tongue. Timothy reassured you that you would not try to harm your father. I am telling you that you will listen, and be civil, and courageous, and not descend into recriminations, or histrionics, even if he does. This is the man who used to beat a little boy that he should have loved. Before you meet him, take a look in a mirror. _You are nothing like him."_

As he spoke, Ducky disappeared for a moment, and Tony saw his own reflection, standing, not squatting down as he was. The reflection suddenly shot across the pool, until it stretched all the way across, and he could no longer see the whole of it. He let out a shout of rather wild laughter, as Ducky's reflection reappeared.

"Ducky… you're in my head, right? You're my thoughts."

"Very perceptive, dear boy."

"Well, wasn't that a bit of an ego trip?"

"Ah, call it an ego _boost,_ Anthony. They're not quite the same thing, you know. You're not without ego… it's understandable, after all. If someone tells you constantly that you're worthless, you then have to counter it by telling yourself that you're a hell of a fellow. And so you are, my dear friend, but you do know when to stop. Oh, and one more thing. Trust Gibbs." The reflection wavered, and vanished.

----------------

Director Vance's big utility vehicle came bucketing across the snowy field and fishtailed to a halt nearby. As the family piled out, carrying blankets and coats, Leon was already speaking.

"Lily told me some big kids took over the lake and made it impossible for anyone else to skate. She got knocked over and she's covered in bruises. Then Jared comes dashing up and tells me they've hurt DiNozzo. What's happened to him?"

As McGee explained, Jackie Vance produced a blanket with a waterproof backing, so they had somewhere to lay the patient where he, or more particularly according to Gibbs, his precious sweater, would not get wet from the snow. She covered him with another one, as Ducky and Vance began to discuss putting Tony in the back of the utility and taking him to hospital. Gibbs' attention had never left his agent, and watching his face closely, he suggested they should wait.

"Yeah… Wait…" Tony muttered thickly.

----------------

_Trust Gibbs. OK, I do trust him._

_I suppose he's round here somewhere, then._

He waited, looking round.

_Ducky said 'Not yet.' He was talking about the memorial, right?_

"Right," a familiar voice said, as Tony turned towards the monument. Gibbs was at the top of the steps, leaning against a pillar.

He began to saunter down, as Tony called up to him, "Hey, good view from up there, Boss?" He had on the old t-shirt and tatty slacks he usually wore to work on his boat, but the drink in his hand was a large Starbucks coffee, not bourbon. They met at the foot of the steps.

"Oh, very good," Gibbs said. He reached out a hand to touch Tony's right temple. "Got yourself a helluva bruise there, DiNozzo."

"I have?" Tony put his hand up gingerly. "Shit, I have."

"There's not much time," Gibbs said. "You know how they fuss."

"It's the hardest question to ask."

"Are you that worried about the answer?"

"Well, see, Boss, I think I already know, but what if I'm wrong?"

It wasn't snowing, but a breeze that hadn't been there before was blowing flurries of snow about. Tony shivered. Gibbs put one finger under his chin and made him meet his eyes.

"Tony, have I ever lied to you? When it mattered? And I don't want to hear the word Domino."

"No, Boss, you haven't. But I've never asked –"

"So ask."

"What if he says he's sorry? That he wants to make it up to me? That he wants to be family?"

The wise blue eyes didn't flicker. "Well, now, you tell him that you've _got_ a family." Tony smiled softly, and thought that was it.

"And son?"

_What?_

_I can't move._

_Look at him, you damn fool._

"Yeah?"

"Tell him you've _got_ a dad."

_Got a dad… you've got a dad… _

The eddies of snow blowing all around couldn't chill the warmth that flooded through him, and the brilliant smile that lit his face bridged the gap between the subconscious and conscious worlds. He could feel a hand on his shoulder, and knew it was Gibbs, and he felt contented.

He heard Ducky talking about hospital… no, that wouldn't do. He wanted to talk to Gibbs. He trusted him… he heard the Boss say 'wait', and he agreed.

----------------

Nikki, (who astonishingly didn't seem to mind picking up fallen pieces of tree,) Abby and Jimmy built a campfire. Abby lit it, nobody knew how and she wouldn't say... Tim, Sarah and the Vance children went up to the refreshments tents and came back with burgers and chicken wings, mince pies and mulled wine. Jackie produced a huge vacuum flask of coffee, and a tin of shortcake biscuits. The moon was dropping in the sky, and the light was no longer good enough for skating, so they stuck a flaring torch in the snow, and sat round their fire, eating, drinking and laughing.

Ziva kept looking across at Tony and Gibbs, who sat apart on the tail-gate of the car, deep in conversation. She wanted to go and pull them both into the friendly circle, but Tim softly told her to give them a while longer.

"So are you still going to be worrying about it over the holiday?" Gibbs was asking.

"No, Boss. I'm not worried about how to handle him, or me…"

"And you're not worried about me and his lawyers?"

Tony shifted the coolpack that he was holding against his temple, and grinned. "You promise you won't go all Poppa Bear on me?"

"Hell, no, DiNozzo, I don't promise that, but I won't eat your father or his cronies." He paused. "Look, Tony," he said more earnestly, "You _do_ know that you don't have to face this alone? I don't have to say that? You know we're here for you? You know _I'm _ here for you." He mentally added 'son'.

The younger man smiled. "Yes, Boss," he said truthfully. "I know it." He mentally added 'dad'.

"So, ya coming to get something to eat? Got your legs back, or are you going to keel over?"

"I'm good, I'm good."

Gibbs found a spot beside Abby and the Vance children. Tim and Ziva scooted over to make room on their blanket, and Tony dropped down in between them. Ziva moved his hair and looked closely at the abrasion on his temple; she shook her head, but made no comment. Tim said thoughtfully, "You seem better. I guess you've told him, then."

Tony grinned and nodded. "It was fine in the end."

"What changed it then?"

Tony's grin grew even broader. "Well, it's a long story, and I don't know if you'll even believe me…. But I had an encounter with three wise men!"

The End

**AN: The original idea came from VanishingP2000, who said she'd used a prompt of three random words, given to her by her daughter. Diana Teo gave me 'mulled wine' 'skating' and 'supernatural'. Well, I chickened out of the supernatural bit, so Diana, I hope you'll settle for 'dream sequence' instead. Thanks to everyone who's said nice things!**


End file.
